Shades of Grey
by blueirony
Summary: War is black and white. There is good and evil, light and dark. But what about when the war is over? Is dealing with the aftermath easier for one side, simply because they reigned triumphant? When does the line that divides the two sides start to blur? After a strange encounter, Hermione learns from the most unlikely source that, friend or foe, healing is never easy for anyone.


A/N: In some ways, I can see this scene happening. In other ways, I don't believe this scene could ever have happened. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this story.

**Shades of Grey**

_"It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air." – W. T. Ellis_

Growing up, Hermione's favourite time of the year had always been Christmas. Even when she was too young to fully understand what Christmas was about, she would always be filled with excitement when her father would carefully climb down from the attic with a large box of decorations in his hands, officially starting the festive season in the Granger household.

More than the tinsel that decorated street lamps, the hustle and bustle as people rushed to find the perfect gifts from their loved ones and the light snow that dusted the tops of the sparse trees and bathed the world in a soft white, it was the ifeeling/i that was in the air that Hermione had always adored. It was in the excited eyes of children as they stared, wide-eyed into shop windows. It was in the bell that men in red suits and white beards would ring as shoppers would pass them. It was in the warmth that would fill her home as she and her mother would laugh and wrap gifts together.

She had first encountered that uplifting Christmas warmth in her heart one Christmas morning, many years ago. She had been helping her grandmother in making cookies. Though in later years, Hermione reflected that she had probably been more of a hindrance than a help, she fondly regards it as one of her most treasured memories. Her grandmother had spent the morning telling an enthralled Hermione that Christmas was more than just presents and decorations. The then six-year-old Hermione had immediately protested, but her grandmother had simply smiled before explaining about the spirit of Christmas and how it resides in every person, it just has to be called forth. Hermione has been filled with wonder as the gentle voice of her grandmother spoke of joy, love and peace. Though she had been very small at the time, she had understood what her grandmother had been telling her and had promised to never forget the true meaning of Christmas.

A year had passed, taking with it her grandmother. That Christmas morning, she had stared forlornly at the empty cookie tray in her grandmother's house. Heartbroken and convinced that Christmas was no longer special without her grandmother and her cookies, Hermione had suddenly remembered the words of her grandmother a year before. Remembering the promise she had made, her curious eyes had taken in the love in her father's smile as he looked at her mother, the twinkle in her uncle's eyes as he whispered in the corner with her older cousin and the delight in her grandfather's face as he rocked her baby cousin to sleep. Armed with the wisdom her grandmother had bestowed upon her, it was at that point that Hermione was convinced that magic existed in the world, long before she ever learned that she was a witch. Hermione had vowed to find that special moment each year that would remind her of the true spirit of Christmas.

This Christmas was no different. It had been a long and hard seven months following the war, but it seemed that the magical community was slowly starting to pick up the pieces and recover. Hermione had been delighted to see the once barren and lifeless Diagon Alley, was alive with the familiar crowd and laughter when she had visited to replenish her quills and parchment stock. Shops which had been blasted open were repaired. Signs that had been brutally defaced had been replaced. Streets which had been empty for many months were once again filled with vendors, persuading passersby to purchase their trinkets.

They were only small steps, but it filled Hermione with joy to know that not everything had been lost in the war. Though lives, possessions and reputations may have been lost, the spirits of the magical community had never once wavered. They were determined to relish in the peace that befallen them and were slowly but surely starting over.

Of all the places that had been hit during the war, Hogwarts was one of the most hurt. The majestic castle had not lost any of her beauty in the war, but the final battle had taken its toll on the castle walls and grounds. Though declared safe for classes to begin in time for the new school year, there were still many holes in the walls, many piles of rubble in the less frequented corridors and many burnt spots in the grounds, a dark reminder of the many lives lost.

Though delighted to immerse herself in classes, books and the joy of learning once again, Hermione and many of her classmates had longed to see their beloved castle restored to its former glory once more. Aurors, Charms Specialists and Curse Breakers had been in and out of the castle for many weeks, carefully adding wards and enchantments to the castle, but it was slow and tedious work. Hermione knew that it would take more than a few spells to bring Hogwarts back to the castle that everyone knew and loved. Putting her brilliant mind to work, she had carefully mapped out a plan and taken it to the one person she knew had the same desire to rebuild Hogwarts. A few well chosen words had filled Professor McGonagall's eyes with tears and two weeks later, hundreds of the magical community had responded.

Sitting on a tree stump, Hermione could not help but smile as she took in the scene before her. People, young and old, coming together to recreate the magic of Hogwarts castle. Though only in its fourth day of operation, Hermione knew that the project had gone a long way to mend what was broken. The castle had a long way to go, but she could see the lifted spirit of those who had come out to help. People were smiling, embracing and laughing as they set about the tasks they were given.

"Her-Hermione?" A small voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned and saw a small girl, shuffling her feet nervously, as if afraid to stand too close to Hermione. Hermione sighed. No matter how many times she tried to engage the first years in conversation, they were all still very much in awe of her, especially the younger Gryffindor girls; she was a "hero", as one of the girls had exclaimed excitedly to her friends in the first week of school, before turning red and smiling nervously when Hermione asked her if she wanted a slice of toast.

"Yes, Clara?" she asked.

"Where do you want me to put these?" The small girl gestured to the two plant pots in her hands.

"Do you see that boy over there?" Hermione tilted her head in the direction where Neville Longbottom was patiently instructing a group of students near the greenhouses. Clara gulped and turned to Hermione with wide eyes.

"That's Neville Longbottom, that is! Grace heard it from her brother who heard it from his best friend whose sister _swears_ that he killed six Death Eaters at once with a sword that belonged to Merlin himself!" Clara said, her eyes shining. Marvelling at the power of the grapevine (that always seemed to go into overdrive when first and second years were involved) and choosing to not correct the star-struck girl, Hermione smiled at her.

"Why don't you take the pots over there and ask him yourself?" Clara's eyes widened even further and her jaw dropped.

"Me?" Clara asked, her voice filled with wonderment. Hermione could not help but laugh.

"Yes, you! You can even help him pot the plants. And while you're there, you can even ask him about the battle yourself. Go on, he won't bite," said Hermione. The thought of speaking to someone so revered was too much for Clara to take and she froze, eyes boring into the direction of the greenhouses. It took a small push from Hermione before she moved, but it did not take long before the blonde girl was speaking breathlessly to a very confused Neville. Lifting his head and staring at Hermione, understanding flickered in his eyes as she shrugged her shoulders apologetically, knowing she would pay for it later on as Clara bounced up and down and her hat flew off her head and shook snow onto the plants that Neville had so painstakingly cleaned earlier that morning.

Still chuckling at the muggleborn who never failed to amuse her with her wide-eyed awe of everything magical, _"Blimey, the portraits _move_? Grace! Hey, Grace! Do all the pictures at your house move, too? Can I come over on the holidays?"_, (Hermione was reminded of another muggleborn with bushy hair who displayed the same exuberance not so long ago), Hermione continued to survey the scene before her.

A chuckle escaped her as she saw a tiny Dennis Creevey attempt to lift a tree stump, only to stumble and fall face first in the snow with a yelp. Around five people came running to help the small boy, one of them a tall and lanky redhead who winked at Hermione as he helped the small boy to his feet. Blushing, Hermione continued to watch as the tall boy made a show of waving his wand, ignoring the black haired boy standing next to him as he frantically said something to him. A jet of blue light and a muffled yell found the redhead on his back in the snow, stunned. A wave of laughter surrounded him, led by another redhead whose face was filled with complete joy for the first time in many months as he watched his younger brother struggle in the snow. Hermione shook her head. Much as she loved her boyfriend (she still had trouble saying the words out loud), some things never changed.

"Some things never change, huh, Granger?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Hermione spun her head wildly to the left to find the voice that had echoed her thoughts and her eyebrows flew up as she took in a pale face she had almost forgotten.

"M... _Malfoy_? What are you doing here?" Though determined not to let him faze her, she could not stop the slight quiver in her voice. Noticing her shock, he smirked and shook his head.

"What is it? Scared without Potter and Weasley to defend your honour? Though," he paused and rolled his eyes as the two boys in question started throwing snowballs at each other, "I can't see them giving you much protection."

Hermione, discontent with having to look up at him, stood up before turning to face him.

"Now, now. No need to stand up on my account, but if you insist," he said. The smirk was back on his face as she squared her shoulders and folded her arms.

"What do you want?" she asked, trying in vain to keep the disgust out of her voice. Facing him fully and prepared for a barrage of insults, Hermione took a small step back as she took in his appearance. The usual swagger and arrogance in the way he held himself was gone, the only remnant was the amused twist of his mouth and even that was not as intimidating as it once was. Gone was the spoilt and arrogant boy that had taunted her throughout her school years, in his place stood a thin and pale boy whose only resemblance to the boy she once knew was in the shape of his chin. His hair, falling into his eyes, was longer than it ever had been and his once beautifully tailored clothes were scraggy and unkempt. Most of all, she was shocked at his eyes. In all the years she had known him, Draco's eyes had always been hard, with an amused glint to them. But now, as he stood before her, his eyes looked empty and lifeless. The whites were a pale red and he looked as though he had not slept in a long time. Hermione was shocked at how vulnerable he looked in that moment, a far cry from the boy who once walked the halls of Hogwarts as though he had owned them.

"What do I _want_?" he said, a small laugh escaping him. Hermione shrunk back at how empty and cold the sound of his laughter was.

"What I want is something you can never give. Why do you even care?" Hermione tried her best to not show how shaken she was at this new Draco Malfoy as she spoke.

"No I don't, I-I mean, I..." Her voice trailed off as those empty grey eyes stared straight into hers.

"What are you doing here?" As she spoke, she squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze which thankfully left her face to sweep the grounds. He stood still for a long time, and Hermione, unwilling to play whatever game he was playing, shook her head in disgust.

"Forget it," she muttered, picking up her gloves and walking off. She had not taken four steps before his voice rang out in the cold air.

"So that's it? You're just going to walk away?" At this, Hermione stopped and spun around. He could not be serious.

"What else do you expect me to do?" she asked, incredulously.

"What are you even doing here? No one wants you here, so just go back to wherever you came from and leave us all in peace."

"Peace?" His voice was soft this time and she was shocked at the coldness that suddenly filled his eyes.

"You think this is peace?" he continued, his voice and his words sending chills down her spine. "You think that, just because the Boy Who Lived saved you all once again, that you can all move on and forget it all. You can just continue on with your lives like nothing happened." He took two steps towards her and Hermione stared back, frozen as Draco continued his tirade.

"It doesn't work like that. You can't just expect that things will go back to the way they were because they _won't_," he said, a brief flash of anger crossing his features.

"If it offends you so much, then why don't you-" she began angrily, but Draco shook his head and let out another cold laugh, cutting her off.

"Oh, wake up!" Shaking his head, he turned from her and took a step away before spinning around suddenly, that empty look back in his haunted eyes.

"You know what your problem is? People like you? You think that just because you were on the _right_ side that you can forget about everyone else. You think that you can just ignore everything that happened on the other side, the _bad_ side. You think you're so special with your little friends and your little shovels as if it's going to make a fucking _difference_. As if it matters at _all_.

"Things happened. _Bad_ things happened. You think that all the loss and suffering was for nothing? You think that-" This was too much. Hermione could not stay silent any longer. How dare he think that she could forget the fallen for even a second? How dare he imply that all the years of pain were for nothing?

"You think I don't know about loss? You think I don't know about suffering?" Her voice was shaky, but she stood her ground. Unbidden tears came to her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

"I spent a whole year in a _tent_. My parents had their memories reversed! Do you have any idea how it feels to not have them recognise you? To have them-"

"My parents had their memories reversed," he repeated in a high-pitched voice and laughing that cold laugh once more.

"You think you have no idea what loss is? You know what my parents had to go through, Granger? What you did to your parents was a fucking walk in the park compared with what my family has gone through. Do _you_ have any idea how it feels to have to do the Dark Lord's bidding? To be forced to watch people die and pretend you _enjoy_ it?" The wild look in his eyes terrified Hermione, but she still did not move. She wanted to turn, to walk away, but all she could do was watch as the once proud Draco Malfoy became more and more dishevelled.

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to learn that your father died through a fucking _newspaper article_? Do you?" She stayed silent, not knowing what to say. Another smirk played at his lips but there was no amusement in it this time.

"I didn't think so," he said, softly, his voice barely a whisper.

A heavy silence fell upon the two as Draco realised he had just lost his carefully guarded emotions in front of a girl he once hated, and Hermione wracked her brains to think of something to say. The two avoided each others' eyes for a while before Hermione desperately tried to find something, anything, to fill the tense silence.

"What..." Her voice came out croaky and she cleared her throat before trying once more.

"What are you doing here?" Not knowing what else to say (what _was_ she supposed to follow that with?), Hermione reverted back to her original question. Draco stayed silent for a moment or two before he spoke, his eyes haunted.

"Maybe I wanted to help. Maybe I wanted to do something good for once. Maybe I wanted to-" Draco said, quietly, his voice trailing off.

"You wanted to _help_? _You_?" The words left her mouth before she could stop them and Hermione could have cursed herself as she saw the disbelieving look on Draco's face.

"What, is it so strange that I... you know what? I don't even know why I bothered coming here," he muttered.

"Draco, I-" He raised a gloved hand to stop her.

"Forget I ever come. Forget you ever knew me. Just... forget it," he said, shaking his head. He made a move as to walk away but he hesitated before turned to her once more.

"But remember one thing, Granger. The war that you fought? That year you spent in a tent? You wanted people like me to stop calling you a mudblood, to stop torturing people for no reason. You wanted people like me to stop thinking that one person is better than another." He paused for a moment before tilting his chin in her direction.

"Before you start pointing the finger at me, take a look at yourself. Are _you_ past the prejudice?" And with those final words, Draco turned the collar of his jacket up before turning and walking away, a thin figure dressed in black, in stark contrast to the white of the snow that covered the Hogwarts grounds.

As Hermione watched him walk away, she took a moment to digest his words and felt a wave of something indescribable wash over her. For the first time in her life, she was wondering what it must be like to be Draco Malfoy. For the first time in her life, she was looking past the haughty exterior that he showed to the world and trying to understand what was inside. Walking away from her was a boy who had suffered just as much as she, perhaps even more. Though she had experienced more horrors than any nineteen-year-old should have (she still had nightmares of a dark-haired woman, jet red light and blinding, white pain), she shuddered to think what Draco must have gone through.

She remembered opening The Daily Prophet one morning not so long ago and being greeted with the news of Lucius Malfoy's death. The Weasley boys had exclaimed over it, _"Good riddance!" "Old tosser finally snuffed it, eh?"_, and though she had not voiced her thoughts, she had privately agreed with them. Lucius Malfoy had inflicted terror upon the innocent, the world was better off without a man like him walking the streets. Thinking back to that morning, Hermione was ashamed of her thoughts. What she and many others had failed to remember was that, while the world had lost a menace, Draco had lost a father. Though perhaps not the best father, it was the only father he had ever known. Hermione had only spent a year away from her father and could not imagine never seeing him at the breakfast table dressed in the tattered dressing gown he was so fond of.

As Draco's figure became smaller, for the first time in her life, Hermione felt sympathy toward the boy who had insulted her for the past seven years. A few fragments of speech quickly flashed through her mind, _"Are _you_ past the prejudice?" "The Christmas spirit is in everyone, dear. We just have to look hard enough to find it"_ and she was suddenly running in the direction that Draco had walked off, stumbling as her feet dragging through the heavy snow.

"Malfoy!" Breath coming out in short puffs of air, she continued to call as she grew closer to him.

"Malfoy? Malfoy! Hey, wait just a... Malfoy!"

She caught up to him just as he reached the gates of Hogwarts, eyes closed, wand out, clearly about to apparate away. Opening his eyes, Draco looked at her questioningly. His eyes had not lost any of the empty look, but Hermione did not let it faze her.

"There's a group that are working in the dungeons, if you want to help," she said, breathless from her sprint through the snow. Draco looked at her for a moment before stowing his wand inside his jacket.

"The dungeons?" he asked. Slightly surprised that he did not question her further, Hermione nodded.

"One of the classrooms is still completely caved in. They could use another wand and pair of hands there." Draco looked at her for a second longer before brushing past her and making his way back to the castle. A bit miffed that he had nothing else to say, Hermione stared after him, brow furrowed before shrugging her shoulders and leaning against a fence post. Noticing her heavy feet, she bent to remove her boots to shake the snow out but stopped when a voice called out.

"Granger?" She looked up and saw Draco standing a few feet away from her.

"Thanks," he said. His eyes were not as cold as they were and Hermione was shocked to see how young Draco looked when his face was devoid of any of its usual arrogance.

Unsure of what to say, Hermione simply nodded before he turned and continued his walk back to the castle. Though not friends by any means, she knew now felt a lingering respect towards the pale-faced boy making his way back up to the castle. And, though he may have scared her with his words, she was beginning to understand where the words had come from. She and those closest to her had begun the long process of healing, the road to recovery was a long one, and she knew that Draco had a long way to go. Hermione could only hope that Draco would find some of the Christmas spirit her grandmother had spoke of all those years ago, and take it back with him as he found his way through his grief.

Realising that she had spent enough time away (she wouldn't be surprised if she had to rescue Neville from the overexcited Clara), Hermione rolled her shoulders a few times before looking at the castle in the distance. Inwardly groaning at the thought of stumbling back to the castle with her protesting feet, she bent and removed one boot and grimaced at the sudden cold that her stockinged foot encountered. Balancing precariously on one foot and leaning once more against a fence spot, she shook as much snow out before repeating the process with her other foot. About to replace her second boot, a voice startled her and she lost her balance.

"Hermione?" With a shriek, she fell sideways into the snow and dropped her boot.

"Hermione? Are you okay?" Turning to her side, she looked into the worried face of a tall redheaded boy as he crouched over her. Despite herself, the look of concern on his face made her tingle and she smiled to herself at being the object of his worry.

"Yes, I'm fine, I just tripped over myself." Taking his offered hand and hauling herself up, she wrinkled her nose playfully at him.

"No thanks to you. I thought I could get through one day without falling into the snow but you had to ruin that." With a laugh, he slung an arm around her shoulder and she let out another shriek before balancing herself against him as she struggled to put her boot back on her foot.

"Ron!" Shoving the boot back on her foot, she glared at his grin grew even wider.

"Awww, come on. A little bit of snow too much for you? You live in London!" Ron said with a laugh.

"At least I don't live near you. How I would ever survive seeing you every day, I don't know," she said with a teasing tone to her voice. She was surprised when Ron suddenly pulled her in close and placed a sweet, soft kiss on her lips, just long enough to make her dizzy. Pulling away, he smiled at her.

"You'd love it," he said, softly. Unable to resist the soft expression on his face, she sighed.

"Yes I would," she said, squeezing him softly and resting her head on his chest.

The two stayed like that for a few moments, content to stay in each others' embrace, despite the cold. Hermione shut her eyes and inhaled the familiar scent that was uniquely Ron, thrilled to her toes. Though it had been many months since that first kiss in the middle of the battle, she still couldn't believe she was allowed to touch him and hold him like this after spending so many years denied of this simple pleasure.

"Was that Malfoy I saw before?" Lifting her head, Hermione expected to find anger on Ron's face but all she saw was curiosity.

"Yes, it was," she said.

"What the bloody hell is he doing here? He didn't say anything to you, did he?" Ron asked, holding her tighter.

"No, he was just..." Hermione let her sentence hang in the air, unsure of how to say what she was thinking.

"He was just being a git," Ron said. Hermione stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Ron grinned back cheekily.

"Come on, you can't say that he was actually decent, can you? It's Malfoy we're talking about. Bloody Malfoy. I knew we should have left him in the Room of Requirement." Hermione rolled her eyes but turned to hide her grin in his shoulder.

"He just needs some time to work out what he wants, I think," she said. Ron looked confused and Hermione gave up, knowing that she would never make him understand.

"But don't worry about him, what did you come here for?" she asked. Ron jerked his head behind him.

"Come on. I have something to show you," he said.

And with a laugh, Hermione let Ron pull her through the snow, back to the castle.

FIN


End file.
